The Lost Art
by Sidhbh
Summary: Romana was always the type of woman who when she saw something she wanted never hesitated in going for it. Tutor Braxiatel is in the uncomfortable position of finding himself in her crosshairs.


**A/N:** The story here is based on the Gallifrey audios by Big Finish. I would encourage you to listen to it, but if you're just a Romana fan and want to know what's going on here without listening, here's what you need to know:

Braxiatel is the Doctor's family (likely his brother) and had the nickname of 'The Icicle' in his academy days. He was Romana's Tutor and then promptly fell head over heals in love with her. He didn't pursue the romance (because damn, that's _creepy_) and eventually had to erase her memories of him to preserve Gallifrey (long story) and so she would have had no memory of him when traveling with the Doctor. He also breaks the laws of time in order to get hints from his elder selves on how Gallifrey could be saved (which obviously ultimately failed). Finally, he has a collection of virtually everything you can think of called the Braxiatel Collection. This collection is his pride and joy and is the only thing that keeps him going.

Any other questions can be asked in the reviews and I'll be sure to help.

This fic was written to fill the prompt 'Romana's advances were transparent at best, childish at worst'.

* * *

Romana's advances were transparent at best, childish at worst. So it was ever tempting to forget that she had a tendency to wander into places where she oughtn't.

On one such occasion, such places included his own bed. No easy task. Braxiatel was your average highly paranoid Time Lord: he only felt safe when well protected. No doubt it took a lot of time and patience to break in.

This, however, conspired, along with the 'Preparation for the Preparation for the Parent Teacher Meeting' meeting (as tedious as the title suggested and _twice_ as unnecessary) going on for _endless_ spans, to the poor girl having fallen dead asleep by the time he'd arrived.

She woke up, fully clothed, under a pile of books, wondering if she'd just had a deeply unsatisfying dream. Certainly, she had no one to confirm her memories with. No one really spoke to her and none were inclined to not report her _and_ the tutor for the sake of being her confidant. Romana would have been a fool to believe otherwise.

Unfortunately, her resolve only grew more steely as she was stymied, which was doing his no favours. He'd look into that damnable mirror and see his future selves simultaneously jealous and smug about his suffering. He was going to have to _become_ an icicle if this lasts. Cold showers did anyone only _so much_ good.

Then one of his faces was more wistful and resigned when he 'requested' him to visit The Collection to deal with transaction he couldn't be present for. The tutor quietly wondered why. Was the piece to be destroyed by his elder self's time? Why take it at all?

* * *

His head was full of the possibilities as he completed the transaction of the Degas picture, gazing at it, wondering its fate.

"This place is rather wonderful, yours?" Her voice seemed so loud that the picture almost fell over at his jerking. He turned gaped at Romana, cheeky little smile on her face, who made no bones about giving him the once over and smiling at what she saw. "So very different from your robes, Tutor, you're practically naked!" He certainly _felt_ that way. Her gaze turn fevered. "Though… I must admit… very well… tailored." Her hands slipped under his lapels and caressed him across to his shoulders before coquettishly looking up into his eyes. That didn't last long before she smiled. "I feel rather overdressed. I don't suppose you have… something more comfortable I can… slip into, do you?"

He closed his eyes in an attempt to get himself under control. He felt her lips brush his, so he spoke to ward it off. (Look, you try it, all right?) "_How_?"

She chuckled as her fingers trailed across every seam. His eyes opened and he caught her beautiful, slender wrists. She stepped into his space instead, her chest pressing against him. "Oh, didn't you think I did my research on you, Tutor? Every nuance, every moment… _spans_ of thought on you and you alone." She smiled. "I would watch you fix a crease on your robes and later imagine you use these hands…" She kissed one, causing him to let go of one of hers, enabling her to put it on her own seam and start to pull at her robe. "To do this."

Finally, he spluttered in his best impression of an aggrieved tutor. "Romana, this is _deeply_ inappropriate! I am your _tutor_! It would be a gross…"

"You're my tutor. Teach me?" His response was to scoff. That old line.

Hers was to drop her robe to reveal a negligee that made it impossible for him not lick his lips in unconscious anticipation. He mentally kicked himself when he did.

"There is something _here_, Braxiatel!" she declared with the passion, less born of lust and more of debate, that made it impossible for Braxiatel to even begin to counter.

She started to outright _lick_ the fingers of the hand still holding one of hers. His fingers flexed but he didn't dare let go even when, mercy!, she started to suck on the flexing fingers. "Something… that goes far beyond… Hm! Beyond physical attraction." She paused to take in his aroused smell and he couldn't help but pick up hers. "No end of handsome men as my... contemporaries, after all, even the odd attractive tutor if I'm really suffering from an Oedipal complex. None approach you! Why?"

He jerked suddenly, his eyes momentarily rolling up into his sockets, when he realised her free hand had quietly unzipped him and was caressing his privates. He'd been ignoring how _hard_ he'd been: a self-defence mechanism that was really backfiring on him _now_. Her touch was gentle and it took all he could to not come right there.

With that in mind, it should hardly come as a surprise that her taste started to suffuse into his mouth: he was kissing her, his hands were around her and he was murmuring her name.

"Take me to your chambers. Teach me all that you know. Between my legs. I ache. I don't… know… oh, _Brax_."

That was asking a lot. The chambers bit not the… rest. "Romana, I… never _again_."

"I want you, Brax," she pulled at him in the direction he thought that his quarters were. (Rassilon knows if he's right.) "Body, mind and soul, if you have it. In exchange, you'll have mine. Completely. Even when we lived our lives and wind up in the Matrix, we'll be together."

Turns out he was! But even as he contemplated what he was about to do in there… Romana suddenly refused to enter, her plain arousal doing nothing to diminish her determined gleam. Damned if he didn't love her.

"Your _word_, Braxiatel of the House of Lungbarrow."

His hesitation wasn't true, he realised. The deal had been sealed long ago it seemed. "My word, freely given, is yours, my lady."

She launched herself at him, pulling at his suit as they clattered through the door. His skin was burning as he was stripped and he stripped her to find hers just as hot. He made sure she was squirming before he pushed inside of her, to lessen her pain, but once inside, his pace was fast and unforgiving. (There was only _so much patience_ even Braxiatel could muster.)

Thankfully, Romana was, as always, a fast learner and matched his speed. They came quickly but Brax managed to achieve some degree of simultaneous climax even if it wasn't quite right. First times were never perfect, were they?

The new lovers stared at each other for a while, too breathless and frankly, amazed, at what just happened to even disentangle themselves. He apologised for the pace and she let out a chuckle, forgiving him and confessing that she wouldn't have lasted much longer herself.

He quietly kissed her in response and they made love again, this time at a much slower, gentle pace that made them glow in contentment. The third time was not physical at all, a mental review of what they experienced, shared in a mind link while they closed their eyes and dismissed the world around them.

Then they ate and recovered their clothes and made preparations to return to Gallifrey. Romana had found a rather fetching white dress in the closet, so she'd have something to wear while searching for her student robes. Brax found her the boots to match and invited her to keep both.

"All right, but aside from this, it will be as if nothing had occurred," Romana declared, now seizing on the… inappropriateness of this new relationship. "I'll finish my studies, declare to my father the value of having the Ancient House of Lungbarrow combined with ours, and take you as my husband." She gives him a girlish grin. "And we'll take on the universe, Braxiatel."

He smiled back at her, but there was doubt in his eyes. Both the simplicity of Romana's plan and the expression on his elder self's face bode ill. "I _love_ you, Romana."

The doubt worried her, but she smiled at the obviously genuine declaration. "Braxiatel, don't ever forget that I… love you. With all my hearts." Someday she may be able to say that without hesitating over the 'l' word.


End file.
